Big Red Race Car

Vrummmmmmm, Vrummmmm

Mirror, signal,  manoeuvre

How am I doing? Anything coming?


I’ve got a big rad race car

It’s made up of parts of me

Really I’m a machined pice of engineernig

of glistening pieces , of glistening pieces.

oiled and lubed up the eyballs blue, eyeballs blue.


I can’t see, youre in the way. Just tell me


Your fine. you can …GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Sorry, my foot slipped onto the accelerator there.

You can go!


Hurrah! We’re driving…Put the stereo on. something rocking…

’cause we doing it violent, Big and silent, big and silent, midnight violence

‘What did you say?

Crap. Was I speaking out loud?

Did You say something about midnight violence?

Yeah sitting pretty in the city and crying at the violence going on all around us

Yeah right…

Let us pray ‘We want no more violence here today’

You’re not funny.

But I’m saying all the right things ,baby. Don’t you trust me anymore?

(turns away)

(accelerates) Let’s go honey. Let’s go…

I don’t want to. Turn around.

Oh, Honey..not tonight..You promised.

Don’t turn this around on me. You..Paedophile!!!


Turn around. I’m not going. Stop the car.

SCREEEEECH. Tires smoking rubber. Passenger door open the SLAMS shut.

Get OUT! GET OUT? GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT! (bangs on the roof)

Groans here we go again.

I saw in your favourites Nubiles.Net.

Ohh Aww that’s not porn?

Not porn. it’s underage girls.

No, it isn’t

Yes it is

No, it isn’t

Don’t I turn you on baby? Aren’t I enough for you?

Don’t start that again.

Baby, I need You I loved you do you remember?

Well, all that can be turned round. Just a phone call and it’s all over baby blue.

Walks round to the other side of the car.

Come on then hit me again

Slaps her HARD

Big in the city tonight huh?. Get in the car bitch and shut your face.

Fuck you asshole. I got a gun.


Whooah Big boy! Don’t cha lose your cool now? Don’t forget Daddy rules (waves the gun around)

Where did you get that?

Of Lemmy. He came around to my way of thinkin’.

Lemmy huh? I knew he can’t be trusted.

Well he can be and there’s more of us than you Daddy cool so hand over the keys

They’re in the ignition.

Well, this is where you and I say good-bye Daddio. (blows HIM a kiss)

Get in the car and turns up the stereo.

‘FUCK YOU AND THE HORSE YOU RODE IN ON’ (fires twice out the window)

She Accelerates and drives off into the horizon sending up clouds of dust and smoke.


Furries (Declaration of WAR)

The tawny hare, the snowy fox chased the guilty priest
into the golden closet full of expensive wigs and bright red lipsticks
where the russet lady and the casual dominatrix compared notes from a dripping notebook.
Then, the furry friend ladled the smelly concoction over everything
and you turn to him and said’This isn’t me, get out of my bed, I don’t love you anymore, get out of my head,’
A giant rabbit opened the door and daylight flooded in drenching you
in Rabbits cum, ‘Take the handle and pull yourself out!’ you command
but there you lie sopping and wet
pathetic and drowning
in another’s mourning
another’s mourning.
race car red
get out of
I want to take out a boat
and row into the lake
and I don’t need
you kind
You’ll regret it
said he goadingly.
You don’t know the half of it.
You’ll see. You’ll see. You just don’t abolish me. You will fade into mediocrity. You WILL FAIL!

Atlas Got The Job!

Atlas got the job of holding up the world. One day he might retire or become ill and I’m not done yet. Atlas! Always in the front. Always getting the glory. Well, he did not come from a broken home did he? He did not have a sister to raise and shopping to do every night after school? No! he had a garage with an electric door and tickets to the cinema every weekend. Sob! I could do Atlas job. Just give me a chance! I’m kidding. I used to have Atlas job but I gave it up for art. Now I balance nature and nurture on this slab of rock which actually is just as hard as balancing the world if not more difficult because it’s so small! People like us are built for large not small. I have grown into this role and for once can say I’m truly happy. I now do things in miniature and like the Bonsai, It’s impressive.

164 Words

Tied Down 2

I am listening to Cheryl Crow wishing I had listened and had the patience twenty wasted years ago. For then I could have worn A diamond blue ring and had shoulders big and strong and walked down the path like it was mine and listened to the strangers and made my decisions with my girl. And we’d go into town and throw it all around. And rock it North South East And West wearing a vest. Yeah.

And my mates would all be young and free from such things as ties them down 2

Me 2. I am tied down by you. And the place I live. I stay for no good reason other than I carry an old fashioned image of home that seems out of time 2day.

You carry me or drag me literally through bramble bushes leaving me cut and bleeding for I say again no good reason. I can’t tolerate it any longer. I thought I was stronger. What I need is no place here. Why do I feel I am being guided by hand invisible towards a place where everybody will know I failed. But I have a talent. Me. Little old me. Such praise 2 day.

Pray. No I will not pray to a God that did not make it happen. It was the well. You have it 2.

Can I have forgotten already? 2late.

You arrive home after a day at work and you look tired and windswept. I love you. You glance in my direction and I think that you love me 2.

Could I be that I am dreaming and in reality you are leaving me here alone?

I think again of the meeting and the words unspoken and that’s enough 2 carry me through. Is it all in my mind? All of the time?

What does it say on the label? Schizophrenic. Medication twice a day. Risperidone. Methadone Pretty.

Are women 2 be trusted Am I 2 be trusted?

We shall have to wait and see.


Space Travel

Space travel is a perilous adventure. Asteroids, Space dust, cosmic rays can all clog filters or knock you out of orbit, hurtling you towards the nearest sun. So imagine my surprise when on holiday I found myself cruising towards the pleasure planet of Sol550 and happened to see a fighter class frigate half-way between a fatal collision with a sun and annihilation by a laser beam from enemy cruisers attacking as a pack. With only a radio and a light sabre for self-defence, all I could do was to watch on as the frigate dodged the attack from the attacking cruisers while on a trajectory taking it right towards the burning surface of the sun. Time and time again the cruisers circled and then attacked in formation sending deadly pulses of weapons class laser beams towards the helpless frigate and time after time the frigate managed to dodge and weave around them and return fire damaging the attacking ships and still avoiding the gravitational pull of the sun.

I pulled up from my ascent towards the pleasure planet and tried to radio for assistance but as luck would have it I was out of range of the police force. I sent instead a message in semaphore to all surrounding craft in an emergency code I remembered from college many years passed. Then, with a knot in my stomach I sat and watched and waited for help to arrive.


Men In Towels

After the sauna, I knew I had a temperature problem. They just kept on pouring water onto the hot coals and for the next week, I couldn’t regulate my own temperature. One minute I’d be inside wearing a wooly jumper and boiling next id be outside in a t-shirt freezing while the sun was out. It’s all men in towels really and porn and lager on tap with television. if you wanted to know. 😉 I had his phone number, though. All in all, it had been a successful visit.

Now I needed to cool down,

I try to make something of my past experiences make them pay in the present sort of thing. It’s not rocket science but…I think my mind is out of sync with my body and consciousness. if it were in sync I would know because there would be a fucking great big green light shining in front of my eyes but these days all I see is flashing amber and mostly red.

How can I function? I have to work. I have to socialize. I have family and extended family. Fucking hell I have mates. We do things like pull birds and I’m the entertainment sort of thing. I hate it. I love it. Perhaps If my mind was in sync I’d be the one pulling the birds and some other sad sack would be the stooge. It’s not difficult. All the self-help books say focus on the positive. accentuate the positive and all that bollocks. I think I am. I missed, therefore. But you get the gist mate don;t you. Get me a coffee.

I’m talking to myself again, not a good sign. maybe if I was in sync I wouldn’t be like this. I’d be more floating like rice plants in a sea of ambergris. The sound of whales singing. What did you say Gay? Oh please. give it up.

So do I call him ‘NO’ is the answer? I got his number but he got mine too if you know what I mean. I wouldn’t let him fuck me like he wanted to. it’s all fucking marmite to me. You either love me or you fucking hate me bitch. get that straight in the kisser baby.

And he fucking loved me. Asked me out. Don’t need to brag. The truth is made flesh blasphemy number one. He is my god. blasphemy number two. I sucked gods cock. blasphemy number three.!

I feel like I am in sync. Congrats, Hurrah!

Harrumpity Hump

Harrumph Hump said the Elephlump.

It’s five in the morning. What time  do you call this?

Well, I thought you would like breakfast in bed.

Oh that’s nice but I really need my sleep

Oh, but your egg will get cold. And your coffee.

Oh, look I am going back to sleep. You eat it.

Oh OK. Have a good sleep

Harrumph Hump said the Lele flump and turned over in the bed.

It’s always the same for an aleph lump

people trying to please ya

even when you have done nothing notable

there are people in the woodwork who are kind to you

doing this and that, saying nice things…

The dream fairies are now back in control and wondering which way to direct the dream machine

One is starting to extrude from the nozzle

I see Tinky Winky and Po and Treasure Island, Oomplumpas and a chocolate sea

Oh the dream whisk wind machine is starting up

Where will the dream end up with purple clouds and yellow

suns. Maybe this dream will be one to write down. Will it be lucid?

Lions and zebras are taking to the plains in a new dream which one will hold?

Oh I see a new dream oh now the machine is broken again that’s just goo

Oh, goo is OK now is it? OK, let’s go with it. Goo, goo and more goo

This is gong to be a sticky one I can tell.

The Dream elves fall asleep and the dark castle on the hill is visible before the fog. Someone lets out a scream

Sorry, the wrong dream said a dream Elf sheepishly.

This egg is tasty. Why didn’t I make it for myself? That fat cow never is hungry. Ungrateful bitch.

Why do elephants have it so easy?


Bluegrass on Rye


Why we should use bluegrass in our curries, when making bread and in general in cooking.

The elements of bluegrass are a smoky concoction of tambourine notes with a piccolo aftertaste not requiring either of the aforementioned instruments. Everyone knows how to make bolognese right? Well here is a new recipe I have for you. Put on some bluegrass. Loudly and let it permeate the very walls of your kitchen. Let it be absorbed by your wooden table top. Let it bounce off the cutlery and assorted hard surfaces and let it flow through the open window in rickety racket bumps and humps that keep the washing on the line flying round and round in double quick time. Crumble an oxo cube letting the sound crumble with the chunks into a pyrex measuring jug. Add Hot water and marvel at the mixture now giving off vapours of bluegrass and beef. Add some spices and dance a bit around the kitchen banging a wooden spoon off every available surface. Add this mixture to the minced beef sauteed in the pan. Add tomatoes, Add celery, add mixed spice, tumeric and parsley. Get hold of some fresh bluegrass and peel off the hard layers with a sharp knife. Chop off the heads and keep till later. Grate the peeled bluegrass stalks into a mortar and pestle. Add butter and a little nutmeg. Grind with the mortar and pestle until fine. Sprinkle the powder into the bolognese mix taking care to get none up your nose and simmer on a medium heat for 30 minutes.

Sit down and relax.  Fall asleep. Wake up throw burned pan into the bin. Order bluegrass takeaway for you and your partner. Enjoy!

Mr SnodGrass

Mr Snodgrass was a punk and a caretaker at St Cuthberts School, Daventry.

He listened to all the pop punk bands and wore his hair in spikes died grey down the middle.

In his nose he wore a silver nose ring

His ears were a pincushion of stones and platinum and silver

In his lip he wore a plug which meant you could see his bottom row of teeth through it.

You could find him sweeping up leaves and litter in the corners of the playground

Kids would call him Wolfy and then he would chase them saying he was going to eat them up or blow down their straw houses.

There was a rumour going around the teachers at the school that he had slept with the headmistress but in truth he had a steady girlfriend, Ruth.

Ruth, ‘the Truth’ was a legal secretary at the local law firm and her hobbies included running, drinking and live music.

Every Tuesday night Ruth would come around to the caretakers house where they would order Chinese food and wash it down with a bottle of wine or two and listen to music or watch a DVD . Ruth lives only a five minute walk away from Wolf so they got on like a house on fire.

One day…Ruth proposed that she and Wolf should get married.

Wolf accepted and then one fine April day they got married at the local Anglican Church. Wolf’s friends came around with their nose rings and spiky hairs and Ruths boss from work and her friends came from all around  and they partied until the early hours of the morning.

They settled down in the caretakers house and soon a baby was on the way. Ruth the Truth said to Wolf. ‘I love you, I want your baby but you must agree I cannot call you Wolfie any longer. Wolfie is no name for a father’

So Wolfie changed his name from Wolf to Pooch and died his hair white which gave all the kids at school a fright and his friends deserted him and soon rumours were going round the school that not only had Wolfie lost his cool but that he had to ask permission to change the channel on the television at home.

The baby was born nine months later and when deciding a name Ruth The Truth gave Pooch a task to complete. To go through the baby name book and to pick an appropriate name for their newborn baby.

Pooch studied the book day and night for two weeks. After work, in the spare room he would sit poring over the book and write different names down on pieces of paper and stick them with blu-tack to the wall and then pace backwards and forwards holding his chin in his hand and scratching his head. Then after narrowing it down to ten names he threw away the nine remaining and looked at one name with a big smile on his face. It was decided. He had chosen a name.

Everyone was waiting. The schoolchildren were waiting. The teachers at the school were waiting. Even the headmistress was interested. Ruth was being asked at work by her colleagues what the name of the baby was going to be but she had said. That decision belongs with Poochy.

Poochy left a message on the phone at Ruths work and told his wife that he had chosen a name for the baby and that its was going to be called ‘……’. Ruth ‘The Truth’ Snodgrass wasted no time at all. She asked a collegue to draw up divorce papers on the grounds of ‘Unreasonable Behavior’ then she called her parents and said she was moving back home until she could get her own place with the baby.

All this happened very quickly and some changes were happening just as quickly to Pooch. After Ruth and the baby left home he changed his name back to Wolf and he dyed his hair again with a grey streak down the middle, just like he used to have it styled. The kids in the play ground were giving him respect again and he was chasing them once more. He slept with the headmistress who came to work with a smile on her face and when she saw Wolfy she would wolf whistle him and he would wave to her broom in hand.

The kids in the playground were impressed. Once they heard what the name of the baby was to be called never grew tired of repeating it to each other.

They said things like. ‘Rad’, ‘Cool’ and ‘awesome’ and talked about the name in hushed tones with awe in their voices.

The divorce went through quickly and the story was even picked up by the local paper who printed the name of the baby on the front page. ‘……..GATE’ read the headline.

20 Years later it was time to retire for Wolf and days before  his planned do he had a heart attack and died. When the people were clearing out his belongings they found a box containing newspaper cuttings and a piece of paper with a name on it. It read ‘……’

The story was revived by the local newspaper which was now being ran by the old headmistress daughter with the byline ‘Wolf In Pooches Clothing – STILL UNFORGIVEN BY WIFE 20 YEARS LATER’

You might be surprised to know that the name Wolf chose for his baby wasn’t derived from legal nomenclanture history or Greek or Roman Mythology but was the simple name ‘……..’

Red Dust From Mars

Upon the morn did Rita shine. Her head bobbing up and down. Groans were heard coming from the room. Then the words ‘faster’,’faster’,’FASTER’. Ginny walked into the room to see Rita on the exercise bike and Brian bashing  the controls of the deficient treadmill.

‘Hi Brian, Rita!’ said Ginny cheerily

‘This piece of shit won’t go anywhere…’ shouted Brian

‘Hello Ginny !’ Rita said, stopping cycling, her head coming to a standstill.

‘So tell, Whats Up,’ said Rita placing her hands on her knees.

‘Nothing much,’ said Ginny, playing with her hair.

‘Hows….whatshisname…Hero..isn’t it?’

‘Oh good thanks and he gave me something you have to see,’ said Ginny taking a red plastic container from her pocket. She twisted the lid off with her left hand and proffered it to Rita like a rare stamp with interesting pictorial features.

‘Whats that? Dirt?’ asked Rita

‘No. It’s Red Dust From… Mars’ said Ginny stressing the last word with emphasis.

‘Hmm’ said Rita reaching into her bag. ‘Guess what I’ve got here,’ said Rita

‘Dunno,’ said Ginny still holding out her hand

‘Hanky,’ said Rita blowing her nose loudly.

‘Ginny take no notice,’ said Brian.

‘Give it here,’ said Rita holding out her hand, still sitting on the exercise bike.


The red container filled with Red Dust From Mars was left on the windowsill of the exercise room. In the night sky, the distant constellations blinked and starlight shone down illuminating the windowsill and half the room. Starlight reflected off the digital readout of the treadmill where drops of human sweat had dried.

And the light shone  on the red box reflecting off its edges. Then the box rattled, and hummed, then the starlight passed.

And the red box just sat there.

Waiting for their return.

Dedicated to My Dad who suggested a sci-fi story might be on the cards…